


Hope

by CashaMayfield



Series: ProwlxJazz Christmas Challenge 2007 [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CashaMayfield/pseuds/CashaMayfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl asks Jazz for help in raising the morale on the Ark... is it a wise decision?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the  [](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/profile)[prowlxjazz](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/) Christmas challenge, which is based around the four candles of advent. This one is for Hope
> 
> Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Memory awakens hope. It is the beautiful task of Advent to awaken in all of us memories of goodness and thus to open doors of hope." - Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger.

  
_This fic is bought to you by the words ‘battle computer’ and the number ‘four million’_  


 

It had been a long year, Prowl mused.  A four-million-year-long year, if you took into account how long they had been in stasis for.  He was currently seated at his desk in the office that had been hastily set up after crash-landing on Earth and realising they would be here for as long as the Decepticons were.  He put aside the datapad he had been reading; Ratchet’s report could no doubt wait until the morning.  Since they had awakened, they had been in numerous battles with the Decepticons and morale was at an all time low.  Which considering the morale level when they left Cybertron in search of new sources of energy, was really rather bad.  And Prowl wasn’t entirely sure there was anything he could do about it.

“Ya know they say a problem shared is a problem halved.” Prowl looked up to see Jazz leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and his trademark cocky smile in place.

“What?”

“A problem shared…”

“I heard that.  It just makes no sense.” Prowl interrupted.

“Jus’ means that it might be easier to cope with if ya tell someone else what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing is…”

“Don’t give me that Prowl.  I’ve known you far too long for that.” Prowl leant back in his chair and regarded the saboteur carefully.

“All right.  Besides, logically you’re the best person to help with the problem anyway.”

“Now that’s more like it!” Jazz moved from leaning against the wall to sitting on Prowl’s desk in one swift fluid move, which made Prowl wonder exactly how he managed to move that quickly without making a sound.  But the sight of the now ecstatically smiling saboteur lying half across his desk was enough to banish any thoughts from his processor.

“You are incorrigible.” He stated.

“Yup.  Amongst other things.” Jazz grinned back at him.  Prowl resisted the urge to sigh.

“We have a problem with morale.”

“Noticed that.  You heard Gears, you’d think the air here was actually destroying his circuits bit by bit, regardless of what Ratchet says.”

“Indeed.”

“What we need is a party!”

“You would say that.”

“What?  Can’t a mech have a little fun?” Prowl decided not to answer.

“We need something that will distract everyone from the situation at hand, before morale hits rock bottom.”

“Yup.  Leave it with me Prowl!” With that, Jazz playfully tapped Prowl on the nose and bounced (Prowl would swear his spark on it) out of the office, leaving Prowl to wonder exactly what he’d let the residents of the Ark in for.

   


Over the next week, requisition forms piled up on his desk, awaiting his approval.  Prowl’s critical optics carefully checked each one, making sure to note if he would need to inform Red Alert.  It had been an understanding he and the Security Director had reached after a large package containing small round balls had nearly been blown up.  Only Jazz’s intervention had stopped the paranoid mech from destroying what he called ‘baubles’.  All of the requisition forms came from Jazz and Prowl stopped trying to work out what the saboteur was planning for fear of crashing his battle computer.  Giving in gracefully, he signed each requisition form as it crossed his desk and didn’t ask questions.  He trusted Jazz.  After all, if you couldn’t trust the one you loved, who could you trust?  


Unbidden, the thought flitted through his processor and he tried to quell the surge of feeling in his spark.  Just because he loved Jazz, did not mean for one minute that Jazz reciprocated.  Prowl had come to realise that a long time ago and had accepted all eventualities his battle computer had provided him.  Putting the last of today’s requisition forms to one side, he sat back and offlined his optics for a moment. He thought about their journey here, to Earth.  The plan to search for new sources of energy in the galaxy that they could use to finally end the war and return Cybertron to what it had once been.  But the Golden Age of Cybertron would never exist again.  Indeed, they had no knowledge of whether Cybertron itself still existed.  A lot of things could happen in four million years.  The planet they had crashed on had evolved from a featureless visage into mountain ranges and deep oceans, both teeming with life.  What was to say that the reverse had not happened on their own world; that Cybertron was now a dry husk of metal hanging in the depths of space?  With no knowledge of what had happened, the Autobots had slowly succumbed to despair.  One by one they fell.  Prowl had watched them all struggle to put a brave face on their fate, but it wasn’t always possible to stay cheerful.  Prowl had run many scenarios through his battle computer and he could only foresee one outcome for this war if things carried on the way they were.  And it wasn’t a favorable outcome for the Autobots.

 

“Prowl?” Spike’s voice sounded loudly outside his door, breaking Prowl’s train of thoughts.  He released the door mechanism and stood to greet the young human they had befriended.

“What can I do for you Spike?”

“Jazz needed me to check that his… er… requisition forms had gone through okay.”

“They have.”

“That’s great!  This Christmas is gonna be the best ever!”

“Christmas?”

“Yep, Christmas.” Spike dashed back out, completely missing the puzzled look on Prowl’s faceplates.

 

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

 

Rumors always spread like wildfire in a confined space and the Ark was no exception.  In fairly short order, practically every Autobot was whispering in the corridors about ‘Christmas’.  Jazz flitted from group to group, chatting and smiling, but revealing nothing about his plans.  Until Prowl cornered him.

“Jazz?”

“Prowl. What can I do for ya?”

“What exactly is it you’re planning?”

“Now that would be telling.” He grinned at the tactician, ignoring the way Prowl’s doorwings flared ever so slightly.

“I’m not going to regret asking you to help out with the morale issue am I?”

“Awww Prowl, I’m hurt.  Look around ya.  Everyone’s excited and happy again.  I even overheard Mirage reminiscing about home without wishing he was back there.  Didn’t seem to matter that we were stuck here.  Even Gears is smiling.  Everyone loves relieving their best memories and just talking to a good friend.” Prowl nodded, agreeing with Jazz.

“I’ll admit the situation has changed drastically.  Whatever it is you’re planning, it’s had a good effect on everyone.”

“Thanks Prowl!  And don’t think I’ve forgotten about ya either!” Jazz turned and danced back down the corridor.  Prowl could feel a smile threatening to break free and shook his head.  Over the last week, Jazz had been exceedingly busy; not only putting in a record number of requisition forms, but in the amount of time he’d spent talking to everyone.  Prowl had overheard some of the conversations and was actually surprised by the sensitivity the saboteur was showing.  Not that he had thought Jazz insensitive, it was more that he hadn’t expected him to sit and listen to Mirage talk about the Towers; relieving old memories and relaxing.  Or play that game that Bluestreak had been bugging everyone to play with him.  Prowl had even watched in amazement as Jazz talked to Huffer and Gears; both Minibots walking away with smiles on their faces.  From what he could gather, Jazz had gotten every mechs’ input for this ‘Christmas’ party he was throwing.  Even Sideswipe hadn’t played a prank since he had assigned Jazz to the task.  Whatever Jazz was doing, he was doing it well and improving morale.  Prowl just hoped it wouldn’t backfire on him.  He didn’t think it would.  In fact, his battle computer predicted only a 0.3% probability that Jazz would fail and morale would sink again.  For the first time in four millions years, they all had hope again.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl asks Jazz for help in raising the morale on the Ark... is it a wise decision?
> 
> "What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future." - Agnes M. Pharo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the  [](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/profile)[prowlxjazz](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/) Christmas challenge, which is based around the four candles of advent.  This one is for Hope.  I had originally planned for Chip to virtually say the quote, but Jazz and Prowl decided they’d rather do it their way… and who am I to stop them?
> 
> First posted on 05/12/2007

Jazz could only come to one conclusion; Prowl was avoiding him.  Deliberately, he was sure of it.  Only thing was, Jazz didn’t quite know why.  Prowl had never avoided him before and it wasn’t as if they didn’t know each other well.  Unless that was the problem, Jazz thought, his spark sinking ever so slightly.  Had Prowl found out how he felt?  He certainly wouldn’t put it past the tactician and if he didn’t feel the same way, that could explain why he had been avoiding him.  But then, Jazz didn’t exactly broadcast his feelings; not deep personal feelings at any rate.  And besides, it irked that Prowl could manage to avoid him!  That only made him more determined to corner the tactician.

 

And so it was that Prowl entered his office that night and sat down heavily on his chair.  He vented air in a sigh as he stared at the datapads stacked on the desk in front of him, before picking up the first one and activating it.

_ ‘Look up’ _

Prowl stared at the datapad, not quite understanding the command visible on the screen.  He looked up and saw Jazz leaning against the wall in front of him.  Prowl waved the datapad in Jazz’s direction.

“This is your doing?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“That’s… not an answer.” Prowl stuttered his response, worried that if he actually tried to fathom what Jazz meant, his logic center would crash, leaving him at Jazz’s tender mercies.  He offlined his optics momentarily against the sudden (pleasurable) visual image of that situation, a fact which did not go unnoticed by Jazz.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am… Primus, we sound like a pair of sparklings.”

“Now that’s a cute image!”

“What?”

“You as a sparkling.” Prowl shook his head.

“You are incorrigible.”

“Yup. Amongst other things.”

“What do you want Jazz?” Prowl asked wearily.

“Just thought you might wanna talk.” Prowl swore his spark stopped pulsing for a fraction of a second while he processed what Jazz said.

“What?” He asked wincing as his vocaliser came out sounding slightly strangled.

“You’re the only one I haven’t really talked to this last week.  Like I said, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I have not… And I’m not getting into that Jazz.  There is nothing we need to talk about.”

“Isn’t there?” Prowl’s pulse definitely stopped pulsing at that and he sat bolt upright, doorwings flared behind him.  Jazz continued as though his words had not had the response they had. “Besides, I wanna hear what you used to get up to at the Academy.”

“What?” Reduced to one syllable words as his processor struggled to keep up with Jazz, Prowl could do little more than stare at Jazz.  He slumped in his chair and offlined his optics, abandoning all pretence at taking part in the conversation.

“Prowl?” The concerned voice of Jazz sounded close to his audios.

“I’m okay.  I just need a minute.” Prowl murmured.

“That’s cool.  Thought I’d overloaded your logic circuits there for a minute.” Jazz teased, gently tracing the edge of a doorwing as he spoke.  He stopped and pulled his hand away as Prowl made a strange noise. “Okay that’s it, I’m calling Ratchet.”

“Please don’t.” Prowl asked, relieved to hear his vocaliser sounded somewhat more normal.  “You just took me by surprise.”

“That’s in the job description, it’s what I do.” Jazz grinned at him before standing back up.  “Now, if you’re feelin’ better, hows about you an’ me having some high grade together like old times?” Jazz pleaded shamelessly.  He missed being able to spend time with Prowl like they used to.  Before their ill-fated search mission began over four million years ago, they had spent their off-duty hours together, simply talking or playing tactical games that Prowl normally won.  Not that Jazz minded; he was simply happy to be in the same room as Prowl.  But over the years, he had noticed his friend becoming more tense during their times together.  Originally, he had put it down to stress and the increasing number of Decepticon attacks they had to counter.  But he’d observed Prowl’s behavior on duty and come to the conclusion that it was something to do with him.  Maybe he’d been coming on too strong?  Not that he had actually been doing much of course, he didn’t want to until he was sure of how Prowl felt.  And reading the stoic tactician was a difficult task.  Jazz excelled at difficult tasks though.  Eventually he had decided that Prowl wasn’t interested and he stopped the passing touches.  He hadn’t had any time to process Prowl’s continued tenseness before they were assigned to the search mission.  That had been four million years ago and Jazz wasn’t sure whether anything had changed.  One sure fire way to find out of course, was to get the tactician as overcharged as possible and Jazz was sure Ratchet wouldn’t mind him ‘borrowing’ some of his special high-grade for the task.

“All right.” Prowl acquiesced. “Perhaps you can tell me what you’re planning.”

“Not a chance!” Jazz hauled Prowl to his feet and guided him to the door. “It’s you who’s gonna be doing all the talking.  Ironhide was telling me some real good stories about you from the Academy.  I wanna hear them from you.”

“Really, they’re nothing interesting.” Prowl half-protested, struggling not to lean back into Jazz’s grip on his door wings.  He was quite proud that he managed not to make a noise when Jazz had clamped his hands down there.  Of course, the fact that he’d immediately muted his vocaliser had nothing to do with it.

 

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

 

There was a reason, Prowl decided, that he’d never drink high-grade again as long as he was functioning, but at this precise moment in time, he couldn’t figure out the reason.  After Jazz had dragged Prowl away from his office, they had ended up back at Jazz’s quarters (because that’s where the high-grade was) and were now six cubes away from the end of Jazz’s supply.

“Man, I still don’t understand how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Pack away so much high-grade and not show any sign of it.” Jazz managed to slur, leaning up against Prowl, who struggled slightly to stay upright.  They had long ago abandoned any strategy games when Jazz lost four in a straight row because he couldn’t process correctly and were now sitting side by side on the floor propped up against the recharge berth.

“I just hide it better than you.” Prowl paused before laughing out loud, a sound Jazz would never tire of.

“What’s so funny?”

“Do you remember that time you tried to out-drink me and ended up sprawled on the floor in front of Mirage?”

“Weren’t that just after he joined the Autobots?”

“Yes. He was not at all impressed with your behavior.”

“Might explain why he was real cold towards me ‘til our first mission together.”

“Oh Primus, don’t remind me of that one.  Very nearly a complete disaster.”

“Hey, we managed to steal the plans.”

“And barely get out still functioning.  I swear the Decepticons could have heard Ratchet shouting that day.” Prowl left out how worried he had been, deeming it unnecessary for Jazz to know.

“I remember having to pull your aft out of danger several times ya know.” Jazz muttered, reaching across to poke Prowl in the chest.

“They were not my fault and you know it.” Prowl huffed, trying to sound aggrieved but not succeeding.  They spent the next few hours reminiscing, slowly getting through the last of the high-grade.

   


“Well, this is the last of it.” Jazz triumphantly held up the last two cubes of high-grade.

“A toast?”

“A toast.  To the past.  And what a past!” Jazz grinned and downed his cube.  Prowl shrugged before doing the same.  Whether it was the high-grade or the fact that Jazz was so close, Prowl would never be able to tell.  Whatever it was, he suddenly found that he didn’t care whether Jazz loved him or not; he had hidden his feelings for far too many years and now he found the courage to do something about it.  Carefully, he tilted Jazz’s face towards his and leant in close; brushing his lips across Jazz’s before leaning back.

“Prowl?” Jazz’s hand came up to rest on Prowl’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Jazz.”

“Don’t be… do it again?” Jazz whispered.  Barely able to contain the rising joy in his spark, Prowl kissed him again, suddenly feeling far more hopeful about the future than he had done for a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl asks Jazz for help in raising the morale on the Ark... is it a wise decision?
> 
> "I like the Christmas that fulfills my needs ... to be forgiven from greed and selfishness, to fill my empty soul with peace and compassion, for hope and faith and charity, for myself renewed and hope restored in an erring world." - Robert D. Wigert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/profile)[**prowlxjazz**](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/)  Christmas challenge, which is based around the four candles of advent.  This one is for Hope.  I am squarely placing the blame for the threesome on  [](http://vejiraziel.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://vejiraziel.livejournal.com/)**vejiraziel**  who introduced me to the delights of Ratchet/Ironhide… I normally pair our dear CMO with Wheeljack… and, let’s just say I’m indecisive… which resulted in the threesome… *looks completely innocent*  Any other strange possible pairings can be blamed on cider…  And I am never going to be able to get the image of Ratchet pole-dancing out of my head… not that I’m complaining mind you, just saying…  
>   
> First posted on Livejournal on 10/12/2007  
>   
> Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.    
>   
> 

“Right, the baubles go there.  No, not there Sideswipe!” Jazz called out.  
“But they’re more fun there.”  
“I’ll ‘more fun’ you Sideswipe.” Ratchet growled from across the room.  “If I have to remove any of those from your exhaust pipe, I’m not using any pain dampeners!”  
“Awww, you’re no fun.” Sideswipe pouted and hung the bauble on the huge pine tree they had dragged into the Ark.  How Trailbreaker and Hound had managed to transport it back, Prowl didn’t know.  And he hadn’t wanted to read the details of Ratchet’s resulting medical report too closely.  That and Jazz had decided to peer round the doorway to Prowl’s office as he had picked up that datapad put paid to any intentions he had.  
“Sometimes I can’t understand how you can manage to organise something like this.” Prowl muttered in amazement.  
“Heh, learned from the master of organisation.” Jazz retorted good-naturedly, elbowing Prowl gently in the side.  Prowl shot him a wry look before sighing.  
“I have to get back to work.” He ventured almost reluctantly.  
“Thanks for keeping Red off our backs.” Jazz murmured, discretely reaching round to squeeze Prowl’s hand.  
“I’m not the one you should be thanking.  Although I do think Inferno will be thanking you later.”  
“It’s best for me not to ask ain’t it?” Jazz asked.  Prowl shook his head and smiled.  “I so did not need that image Prowl!” Jazz gasped.

Prowl left the rec. room and headed towards his office.  He still had reports to check over before he could retire for the evening.  He had spent most of the day covering shifts for those mechs involved in setting up for the Christmas party Jazz had planned for the following evening.  The only things running through his processor now were to sign off the reports and get some well deserved recharge.  He picked up the first report on the pile, scanning through it and noting down anything he needed to confirm or raise with Optimus Prime.  
Finally after several long hours, he was finished with all the reports.  He made his way back to his quarters, frowning briefly as he could see a light shining from under the door.  Keying in his code he was greeted with the sight of Jazz curled up on his recharge berth.  A small smile crossed his face and with some difficulty (not that he would ever complain) he managed to fit himself on the berth next to Jazz as comfortably as he could.  
“You are definitely incorrigible.” He murmured affectionately.

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

The party was scheduled for Christmas Eve, to enable their human friends to join in without making them miss their own holiday customs.  Prowl was amazed at the transformation that had taken place in the rec. room as he walked through the door.  Garish decorations hung from virtually every available space on the wall.  The huge tree that had been the cause of one of Ratchet’s most colorful diatribes was decorated in a stunning array of colors; the baubles having been hung in such a manner to reflect the soft lighting that now illuminated the room.  
“Good eh?” Ironhide muttered as he pushed past Prowl, making his way over to the corner where Ratchet was standing, talking animatedly with Wheeljack.  
“Good?  It’s amazing.” Prowl replied to himself.  
“Thanks.” Prowl felt a hand trail its way gently down his doorwings.  
“Jazz.”  
“Prowl.  C’mon, let’s get this party started!” He cut off any semblance of a protest Prowl could have made by grabbing hold of both of the tactician’s hands and dragging him fully into the rec. room.

The music was loud and overly Christmassy, a fact that seemed to be lost on Blaster who was concentrating on simultaneously pumping out the music at as high a volume as he could get away with and downing a cube of high-grade.  Prowl watched with concealed amusement as he managed it, only to have another cube shoved in his hand by none other than Bluestreak.  The young gunner was hovering by Blaster’s side, making sure that their music player was well taken care of.  And Blaster certainly didn’t look as though he was displeased by the attention.  In fact, the way he ran his hands down Bluestreak’s doorwings… Prowl turned to find Jazz at his side, a wide grin plaster on his face.  
“Drink up and you might get some of that.” He said cheekily, nodding towards Blaster and Bluestreak before thrusting a cube of high-grade into Prowl’s hands and dancing away.  Prowl spluttered briefly before he shook his head fondly, deciding it might be prudent to offline his battle computer while he was around Jazz.

As the party went on, more and more high-grade was consumed, particularly among the ‘younger’ Autobots.  In fact, the only Autobots to stay relatively ‘sober’ were Prowl and Ratchet, although both Wheeljack and Ironhide were trying to change that particular fact.  And Ratchet, against both his partners tag-teaming him stood little chance, Prowl’s battle computer told him.  Even Optimus Prime had succumbed and was on his fourth cube, swaying merrily to the music still being played at an excessively loud volume.  Prowl took a moment and looked around the assembled group.  Everyone was enjoying themselves.  Gears and Huffer had sequestered themselves away in a corner, chatting together; the pile of empty cubes at their feet steadily growing.  The sound of laughter drifted around the room – a sound that Prowl hadn’t heard since they’d crashed here.  It was music to his audios.  Morale was creeping up, the party doing everyone more good than they might admit.  The human custom of Christmas was rubbing off on them and Prowl found himself wondering what other customs the humans had.  Were they all so frivolous?  Yet, at the same time, there was an enormous sense of family.  Prowl suddenly found his logic center flashing a warning at him, and he made his way outside.

The air was cool and crisp, a soft blanket of white covering the landscape.  Prowl stood and just gazed, letting the peacefulness of the night wash over him.  The sounds of the party drifted outside, mingling with the quiet night.  He heard footsteps behind him, not needing to turn around to recognise who had followed him out.  
“Prowl?” Questioning.  Almost worried.  
“I’m fine Jazz.  Just needed some fresh air.” He could hear Jazz laugh, tearing his optics away from the snow covered visage in front of him as the saboteur came to stand by his side.  
“Beautiful ain’t it?”  
“Most certainly.  It looks so peaceful.  It’s so hard to believe we have brought our war to this planet.”  
“Ain’t nothing we could do about that Prowl.” Jazz said, entwining his hand in Prowl’s.  “Besides, tonight there’s no war.  There’s only love and light and laughter!” As he finished the sentence, a burst of laughter could be heard from inside.  
“That would be Ratchet showing off his dancin’ skills.” Jazz explained, the smile on his face giving away one of the reasons he had decided to follow Prowl.  
“I take it Wheeljack and Ironhide finally managed to get him to drink more high-grade than he could handle?” Prowl asked dryly.  
“You could say that.” Jazz finally allowed the laughter out.  “Man, you should have seen him… I think the Twins took a few snaps.  Heck, he even posed for one of them!  As much as he could pose holding on to Ironhide for dear life!” Prowl listened as Jazz recounted the events that had lead up to Ratchet ‘shakin’ his thing’ (as Jazz put it), a weight lifting off his spark as he realised that they might find a way to end the war and find themselves a new home amongst new friends.  
“Thank you Jazz.”  
“For what?”  
“For giving everyone hope again.”  
“Hey, I didn’t do nothing.  I just organised a party.”  
“Needless to say, you didn’t disappoint.”  
“Hope I never disappoint ya Prowl.” Jazz turned to face Prowl and grinned suddenly, making Prowl actually take a step back.  Several scenarios ran through his battle computer and he quickly discounted all of them.  He didn’t expect to see Jazz pull a sprig of green and white and hold it over their heads.  Quirking an optic ridge, he waited for Jazz’s explanation.  
“Mistletoe.  Ya have to kiss when you’re standing under it.”


End file.
